A Very Nonsensical Parody
by miss1780
Summary: Yet another parody of the Patriot. Tons of nonsense, may or may not be funny. Ever wonder how Martin got his nickname "The Banjo"?
1. Chapter 1

**There is no seriousness in this at all. This is going deep into the realm of the nonsensical. Will also probably contain large amounts of stupidity, since yours truly has the mind of a twelve year old. **

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own the Patriot, the characters, blah blah blah. The "Rethink that move, son," quote is from a show called Parks and Rec. **

Ah, mornings. The time that all (or most) human beings wake up cursing, because they do not want to haul their asses out of bed. Morning is an unhappy time. Not for Benjamin "Banjo" Martin, though. No, to him morning is a happy time, where the small forest critters frolic and the birdies sing along with him. That was not the case. His voice was horrendous, the birdies died. (Trust me, these details are important later.) He stepped out onto the porch, and drew in a deep breath, getting ready to-yes you guessed it- sing. However, a stop was put to _that. _

"FATHER, NO! YOU CAN'T SING!"

Benjamin spun around to face his eldest son, glaring. "What did you say to me, boy? Did you say I can't sing?"

Gabriel frantically shook his head. "Er, no, I said 'Father, breakfast is ready'!"

Martin took a step forward. "You lyin' to me now, boy?"

"No, breakfast really is ready. No, please don't hurt me, ABIGAIL! HELP ME!" Gabriel screamed, running away. Benjamin shook his head, grumbling that Gabriel had got away... this time.

Later on, a mail person came and dropped off some dru- _  
_

"No he didn't!" Benjamin shouted, laughing nervously, shoving some bundles into his shirt. "These are, ah, medicine, children, for my sore back."

_As I was saying_, the mail man dropped off the... _mail_... and left. Gabriel tried picking up one of the envelopes, but jumped back as an axe landed on the table, quivering next to the mail. He turned his terrified eyes to look at his father, who once again glared at him. _  
_

"Rethink that move, son," Benjamin said softly. Gabriel held up his hands.

"I- I won't mess with them father, I promise!"

"Make sure you don't", was his reply. Benjamin scooped up the letters into his shirt, and hid in his room, telling Gabriel to keep an eye on the rest of the children. As soon as Benjamin's door shut, the eldest turned to the younger children with an evil smile.

"Ya hear that? _I'm_ the boss now!" They gulped and backed away as Gabriel laughed maniacally.

* * *

**I apologize if this is very short and not very good or funny. I always find it hard to make the very first chapters in my parodies funny. Plus, I am no comedian, though I like to think otherwise. *sigh* There is more coming, rest assured, and hopefully, it'll be funnier. Any suggestions or ideas are always welcome, as is criticism. Next chapter coming soon. **


	2. Chapter 2

** Well, here it is. Next chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

**And nope, I don't own The Patriot or any of the characters.**

* * *

_"Oh Gabriel, you're so handsome!"_

_"And you are beautiful, my sweet, precious Anne."_

_"Oh Gabriel, let us get married! Right at this moment!"_

_"Anything that pleases you, my sweet."_

A hard whack across the back of his head brought Gabriel out of his wonderful, yet very embarrassing, dream. He sat up, swearing.

"Who just fucki-" he was cut off by Benjamin hitting him again.

"It's me, boy! And don't ever cuss like that again, ya hear? I'll have yer hide, ya hear?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yes sir. I won't ever do that again sir."

"Make sure you don't. Oh, and we're going to Charles Town. Wake the children up and get them ready."

Gabriel was confused. "We're leaving now? But... shouldn't we pack some things first?"

"No need. We're staying with your aunt, who may I remind you, is rich as balls. She'll provide us with clothing when we get there, I am sure."

He was still confused, because he wasn't very bright, but nodded and obeyed his father's orders. They arrived days late. The reasons being that a carriage wheel broke, and luckily a friend of Martin's had come along and helped repair it, but that lead to that friend inviting them over to stay a few days, an offer Martin couldn't _possibly _resist. That lead to five days of drunken carousing, leaving the poor Martin children more traumatized than last time.

But, arrive there they did, and Aunt Charlotte was none too pleased.

"Oh, that damn pig! And Gabriel- that boy will turn out just like his father! I can see it!" Charlotte sighed. "He really should have accepted my offer and let _me _raise his children. I pity them, I do," she muttered. They pulled up into the courtyard and she plastered on a fake smile. "Oh, children! It's so good to see you again! What have you been feeding them?"

"Corn and beer." At Charlotte's horrified expression, he smiled and lied, "I am jesting. You know, the normal. Food, water, ale... occasionally beer."

"That is... oh, never mind. Come inside, there are presents and supper is almost ready."

One of Charlotte's servants opened the door and they all went inside. _Oh, great. I am so excited to hear Benjamin boast about the Frenchmen he hacked up. Those poor children. _

* * *

No one had to listen to his stories for long, as it just so happened that a riot started in the street. They all stepped out on the porch to watch it. Among fighting and hanging dummies, vile, vile words were yelled. Benjamin and Gabriel, instead of being good influences joined in, yelling such sentences as "King George eats ass!" and "Loyalists will go to hell!". Charlotte covered Susan's ears and led the children inside, deciding that perhaps reading a story to them was better than watching a riot after all.

* * *

Meanwhile back outside, Gabriel had spotted Anne.

"Anne! Anne! Hey Anne!" He waved, trying to catch her attention. He leaned to far on the railing and some of it broke off, taking him with it. She rolled her eyes and returned to watching more interesting things.

"Hey Anne." She jumped. Gabriel held out a flower pot he had picked up and grinned, showing broken teeth.

"How-? When-? But you fell from the porch, you should have died!"

He was unfazed. "Yer hot." He giggled like a twelve year old girl talking to her first crush. Yes, he did that.

"Piss off. I hate you." She stormed off. "Daddy! That creepy Martin boy is bothering me again!"

"I love you too!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't claim to own it._  
_**

* * *

"Patriots eat ass!"

"Nuh uh, Loyalists do! _And _they'll go to hell for it!"

The judge lifted the hammer and banged it on the other... thing... that judges' hammers bang on (no double entendre meant there, I swear) and the room quieted immediately. "Silence! You are all acting like a bunch of rowdy, immature children! I'll have none of that, not in _my _courthouse! And for the love of the gods, can we please stop using the insult 'eats ass'?!" The judge sighed. "Now, Colonel Burwell, you may speak first."

"Thank you. Now, I am no orator..." and so he droned on and on for weeks, about his dog, about his kids, his messed up love life, and finally, Bunker's Hill. "The British are mean and nasty poopyheads and we must kill them all!" he cried. "It's their fault my mistress left me!"

Er, if I may say so Colonel Burwell, didn't she leave you back in the 1760's?

"That's... that's irrelevant!"

Um, no, no it's not. My point being that you cannot blame the British for the fact that you're so ugly your mistress left you. A long time ago.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Alas, I am a big meanie.

Meanwhile, though amused, everyone else was wondering where the hell that voice was coming from. Ha. Bow down, m'bitches.

"Anywayyysss... " the judge spoke, completely weirded out. "I believe we've spent enough time here. War it is!" He banged the gavel (now I remember it's name! Ah. Hahah.) and the court was dispersed.

A boy ran out on the steps and yelled, "PARTY HARD! WE'RE GONNA KILL SOME BRITS!"

Everyone cheered.

* * *

**This is a short chapter, but I plan to update again sometime today or tomorrow. Also, I truly could not remember what the gavel was called. ;-;**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter four for ya. Oh, and my most heartfelt thanks to Rosemary Tarleton, Edorenel, and Guest for your kind reviews. They are the fuel for this writer! I wish I could give you all a hug and some of the candy I have tonight. As it is... *sighs* Anyways, the next chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Nah, don't own it. **

* * *

_Sneaky, sneaky. _Martin was caught up in a conversation with Colonel Burwell, and so could not properly keep an eye on his eldest son. And let me say, he had to have an eye kept on him quite often, otherwise he did something stupid... like what he was doing at the moment. Casting one last glance at his father to make sure he was still engrossed, he turned back toward the recruitment table and chuckled. _Heehee. I am so sneaky. Francis Marion has nothing on me!_

"What did you say?!" Everyone turned to see a red-faced... Banastre Tarleton?! "Don't you dare ever speak that name again!"

What the _fuck_, you aren't even supposed to be here right now! You don't even know who Francis Marion is yet!

"But I do!"

No you don't. Now leave. This is Tavington's movie, not yours. And so the narrator pushed a _very _wounded Tarleton out of the picture, though he admittedly felt better after she had shared some of her chocolate candy with him. Now, we will get back to the important stuff.

Everyone was silent for a few more moments, then continued whatever they were doing. Gabriel signed his name on the recruitment paper, and cackled. Perhaps a bit too loudly than was wise.

"Boy, what in the devil do you think you're doing?!"

"What does it look like?"

"Don't you get that tone with me, boy! I'm your father!"

"La la la, I don't have to listen to you anymore you mean old druggie, la la la!"

"I am _not _a druggie! Gabriel, you get back here- _GABRIEL!_"

But it was too late. Gabriel had run away; he was gone, lost forever!

Benjamin broke down, sobbing. "He didn't even remember his teddy bear!"

Burwell placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on him. Now, stop crying!"

* * *

**This one was kind of short, too. I'm sorry about that. Some candy? *holds some chocolate out* *Tarleton reaches out* *author slaps his hand* No, not for _you. _You had yours. This is for the readers. **

**Ahem, anyways, hope you enjoyed! And sorry if the character/ narrator conversations are kind of cheesy, I can't resist sometimes. But I'll try to keep them on a down low. As always, reviews are welcome, as are suggestions and constructive criticism. :) Hope you have a lovely day/evening wherever you are!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter fiiive! (No, I have not been drinking, why do you ask?) I was going to update sooner but I've been busy with other projects and I've been dealing with some other issues, BUT here it is and I hope you enjoy it. :)**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own it, or the characters. **

* * *

"Father, you need to get up."

"No."

"Father, please, it's been too long. The grass hasn't been mowed! We need food! Did you know last night we've had to _eat the floor?!_" Thomas exclaimed.

"Yeah, by the way, the parlor needs a new floor," Nathan added.

"Goddamn you kids, all of you! All I want is peace and quiet so I can mourn my favorite son! Who is probably dead! And all you care about is filling your damn stomach!

"It's basic human needs! Oh, and he's not dead. Here's a letter from him."

Ben jumped off the bed and grabbed the letter. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place? When did we get this?"

"Eh, about two weeks ago."

"_What. Why the hell did you never tell me."_

"I... forgot?"

Benjamin looked as if he was about to strangle Thomas, so the boys decided it best if they skedaddled out of there.

"My wife birthed a bunch of idiots," he mumbled. "Not from _my _side of the family though, we're the most intelligent ones in the county." He was obviously forgetting all the dumb fatal accidents that had occurred in his family. Anyways, he opened the letter. It said:

"_Deer fathur,_

_I am dooing weel. I shoot a gun. Peepol dye. It verry bad. Taveentun cut up sum peepol. I stil hate yoo. Patritotism._

_ Gabreeil. _"

Tears ran down Ben's face. "Dumbass still can't spell right." He sniffed and wiped his face with a handkerchief. "Still good to hear from him though. Well, I guess I should start taking care of the farm."

"Yes, it's about damn time!"

* * *

Anne was having a very good day, until that letter arrived.

_"Deer Ann,_

_Yoo r verry pritty. Merry me?"_

She scowled, and hastily wrote under the words: "_No. Do not ask me again. And learn how to spell, dammit!"_

She handed it to the mail dude and returned to her chores.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Charles Town the British had taken over, much to the Patriot's chagrin. There was much wine and partying, and it got so rowdy that many of the Patriots decided to leave, Charlotte included. Tavington and his dragoons replaced the 'Welcome to Charles Town' sign with 'Party 24/7. Every day, every night.'

* * *

Back at the Martin farm, they continued on as normal. Every now and then they received a letter from Gabriel, but they were mostly for his younger siblings because as he stated before, he still hated Ben.

They heard about the war sometimes, and some dude named Tavington, but Ben wasn't scared. They would always have the farm and their peace, and he would have his dru- *notices glares* fine, _beer. _He would always have his _beer. _

But alas, he wouldn't! Dun dun dunnn!

* * *

**Again, thanks for the kind reviews in the last chapter! I really appreciate it! :3 Comments, no matter what type, are always welcome! (Though, if you don't like this, it would be nice to know the reasons why, because if it's something I can fix, I will try my best to fix it.) **

**Anyways, much love! 3 **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six. I would like to say, I am terribly sorry I've taken awhile to update this. I've had a lot of personal things going on which were pretty stressful, BUT** **all is tolerably well now, and**** I'm able to write. SO much more relaxing... **

**Disclaimer: No, I _do not _own the Patriot. I do not own any quotes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail either... **

* * *

Morning. Yeah, that time again. Ugh. _Anyways, _it had been quite chaotic, with Gabriel arriving the night before, and then wounded soldiers filling their yard and porch. Abigail sent Nathan and Samuel down to the creek with buckets to get more water for the wounded, because though they had a well right behind their house, a little more extra work wouldn't hurt them would it?

As they scooped water up, they did not notice the dead bodies floating around the stream until one hit Nathan. Who screamed. And ran back to the house, Samuel following. Like they usually do.

"Now, what the hell you doing with no bucket and no water, like I asked?"

The boys were too frightened to do anything but shake.

"Hm? Give me an answer!"

"A-Abigail... bodies... down by the stream..."

"What, those? That's just dead people! Now go bring those buckets back and make sure they have water in them!"

The boys scrambled away, finishing what was the hardest task so far in their life. Later a soldier would write: "...we had been stuck at that farm for days... and the water they gave us was positively vile! There was an eye in my water! A fucking eye!" He ended the letter, which was sent to his wife with: "I had bladder infection for months after." She replied back: "Whine to someone who cares, Ronald."

Martin stepped out onto the porch, beginning to sing what he thought was a healing song, when the poor soldiers, children, and basically everyone within the vicinity's eardrums were saved by the timely intervention of... Gabriel chucking his bag of dispatch papers at Benny boy's head.

Yeah, you thought it was going to be Tavington, weren't you? Alas, not just yet. Though he would have loved to be a hero, his asshole tendencies won out and he was eager to watch everyone suffer from the bushes instead. Seeing Gabriel chuck the bag and save the day, he swore and threw a mini fit.

Martin collapsed and fell on a soldier's legs, the same poor soldier who found an eye in his water.

"Eww! Get it off! Getitoffgetitoffgetitofffff!" He finally managed to push Martin off of him. "I have had enough! If my legs weren't broken, I would shoot all you lot right now!"

"Leave the shooting to me, please."

"Oh, _now _you decide to show up."

"Be quiet! Now, give me that bag of dispatches, so I can have a reason to burn this hideous place down."

"You _knew _they were dispatches?" Gabriel's mouth fell open in astonishment.

Tavington rolled his eyes. "It says so right on the bag. Oh, by the way, you're arrested and will be hung... eh, probably by the road."

"_What. _That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair, buckaroo, learn that now. Oh right. You will, because you're going to die soon."

"That's wrong and evil and sadistic! Who made you Colonel anyway?"

"Um, I got promoted?"

Gabriel sniffed. "Well, _I _didn't vote for you."

"That's not something you vote for, this isn't future America, in the military you get promoted! Now, men, arrest him!"

"Help!" Gabriel cried as they started to drag him away. "Help, I'm being repressed!"

Ben came to with a start. "House... isn't hideous... WHY ARE THEY DRAGGING MY SON AWAY?"

"Oh ew, it's awake." Tavington's features twisted in disgust.

"WHY ARE YOU TAKING MY SON FROM ME?!"

"He was committing an act of treason by carrying dispatches, now mind your own, old man."

"THIS IS MY OWN!"

"Stop yelling! Now will you leave me alone, or shall I have to teach you a lesson of war?" He pointed a gun at Martin.

"Pfft, go ahead. It's not like I won't respawn again."

"Perhaps your children...?" The gun shifted towards the children, who whimpered and hid behind Abigail.

Again, Martin did not care. "So? It costs too much to feed 'em, anyways."

Tavington nearly dropped his gun. "What? What? You won't even try to defend them? What the hell type of father does that?!"

"Yeah, like you would know what a real father is like," Martin said snarkily.

Tavington had had enough. He shot Martin, who fell backwards in the most dramatic manner. Silence. No one made a sound, no one moved a muscle.

* * *

**Sorry this wasn't very long, again, but I am currently not feeling well so... next chapter will definitely be longer! Anyways, hope you enjoyed. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven. (Sorry this took a while to update. I've been kinda lazy these past weeks. An understatement, I know.)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd be rich. Maybe.** **Which**** I am not. So I don't own it. **

* * *

No one moved a muscle... no, that's not true. As soon as the initial shock wore off, everyone threw a party. It only lasted a minute however, as the author had to resurrect Martin (with apologies to the rest of the characters).

"What is going on?"

"Aww, come _on!_" Thomas yelled. "You were supposed to be dead! Er, I mean, welcome back Father, we missed you."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and pay attention to the matter at hand." He faced Tavington. "Give me my son back."

"I don't think I will..."

"Please! I'll beg! I'll cry! I'll give you my-"

"Shut up, for the love of the gods!"

"No! I want my son back!"

"You're not getting your son back!"

"I don't wanna go back!"

"Shut your mouth, Gabriel!"

Gabriel sulked.

"He's going to hang, and that's final."

"Not if I can help it!" A scratchy teenager voice boomed out.

"What the fuck?!" Tavington, Martin, and Gabriel cried out simultaneously as they looked up. On the roof stood Thomas, dressed in nothing but his underclothes and a blanket-turned-cape. ( "That's just not right," Tavington said.)

"Thomas, no one has time for your nonsense right now! Can't you see your brother is about to die?!"

"I know! I'm going to save him!" And with that he took hold of a rope (which was miraculously attached to something-no one knew what), and leaped off the roof, not heeding his father's orders.

"Gabriel I'll save youuuu-" a gun shot abruptly cut his yelling off. He fell to the ground in a heap. Martin walked over to him and kicked him in the side.

"You see, Thomas? Do you see what happens when you disobey your parent?! You get hurt, that's what! Stop being stupid! Now get up and go change your clothes!"

"F-Father, I'm dy-dying." He coughed up blood.

"Oh look, and now you're getting blood all over yourself! Do you ever learn?" Ben gave him another kick. Thomas coughed up more blood.

Meanwhile Tavington had his head in his hands. "Somebody, save me from these idiots!"

When Benjamin _finally _realized what had happened, Thomas was already dead, and his house had been set on fire. He looked to his left and saw that Gabriel and the soldiers were gone. He turned his rage-filled eyes on Tavington.

"I want donuts."

"Well, you're not getting any!" Tavington cried, clutching the donuts he was eating to himself. He shoved them into his My Little Pony lunchbox and kicked his mount's flanks, sending it into a gallop. The rest of the dragoons followed, leaving the Martins to themselves once more, minus a home, food (nope, not even the corn), and a sibling. Yikes. After a brutal killing rampage, in which the two stooges were dragged along with him and they retrieved Gabriel, they buried Thomas. Five of the siblings stood over his grave, Gabriel sat weeping on a log nearby, and "Banjo" was off somewhere doing whatever.

"Somewhere, he's up in heaven, in a corner reserved for him," Margaret said as she sniffled.

"And he can wear all the blanket capes he wants without getting yelled at," added Nathan. Gabriel's weeping grew louder. His siblings looked over at him.

"It's okay, Gabriel, Thomas still loved you," Samuel said.

"What? I wasn't crying for Thomas, I was crying over my lost freedom! Though, now you mention it, that's one less sibling I can't tease now." Gabriel frowned, then yelped as a log was chucked at him. "What was that for?!"

"He was our brother, you big meanie!"

"I'll punch you for that!"

"Why don't ya, I'll just punch ya back!"

It was at this moment that Benjamin showed up, luckily because a sibling cat fight was about to break out. Or maybe not lucky.

"Do you guys see the flying sea turtle?"

"What?"

"Father, are you alright?"

Benjamin laughed. "Yes, yes I'm quite fine. Say, do you guys see the flying sea turtle over there?"

"Ugh, he's on something again. Now I have to get you all ready and take you someplace safe again," Gabriel whined.

* * *

"Ma'am, people comin'!"

Charlotte groaned as she stood up and swept across the room toward the window. "Can I not have one day's solitu- OH SHIT NOT HIM!" She staggered back from the window. "No notice or anything either! The rudest man, I swear!" Just then, they knocked. Sighing, she went downstairs and answered it. She wasn't surprised when she saw Martin snoring in the wagon.

"Got drunk again?"

"Yeah. And I think something else, too. Anyways, our home was burned down by that meannastypoopyhead Tavington, and we need a place to stay. Well, _they _need a place to stay, I'm heading back to the army soon as I can."

Benjamin quickly sat up. "No," he said, then fell back down.

"Yeah, yeah, you guys can stay here. But your father must sleep in the dog house."

Gabriel and the young ones exchanged startled glances. "Uh, I don't think he'll-"

"I don't care! I don't want to hear anymore stories about how he hacked up the Frenchman, or him wrecking my house. Nope, he's staying in the dog house."

"Do dog houses even exist yet?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Don't care, all that I know is that there's one in the back yard. I'll throw food out to him every once in a while. But you guys hurry and bring your things in. I'll have a servant carry him out back."

Gabriel was now 100% sure all his family were psychopaths.

* * *

At first everything was blurry, and he couldn't figure out why he was so cold or his knees were shoved in his face. But then as his vision became better, he figured out he was in a small house of sorts. And he had a collar around his neck.

"What in all that is unholy."

The damn thing was small, too. He couldn't move his limbs an inch, though he tried. He was stuck, until someone came to save him, and he had no clue where he was even. He did the only thing that came natural to him: singing. He sang what he thought was a "come help me song" (maybe the woodland critters would help him?), but it came out more as an odd, strangled sounded banshee wail. It was also known as the Wild Call of the Martins.

Tavington and his dragoons, who were scouting several miles off, heard it and wondered what it was. As so elegantly put by Tavington: "What in the devil is that _unholy _screeching?"

Back at the house, it's inhabitants were trying their best to ignore it and try to sleep, but it was near impossible at this point. They yelled, they threatened, they threw things at the dog house, but he would still not shut up. When one of the servants made the-smart, may I say-suggestion that they take him out, he was sharply reprimanded by Charlotte, who wanted nothing more than for Benjamin to suffer. Annoying screeching or not, he was staying in there! She'd just have to order ear muffs for them.

Though technically this is the 18th century and laptops or phones don't exist. Let's just say Charlotte's ahead of her time.

The wailing, screeching? Wail-screeching? _The horrific sounds Martin emitted from his throat _finally stopped around 5:30, as his throat got too sore, and he fell asleep. Charlotte and the kids did not know that they, too, had dozed off, and she sat up when she realized the noise had finally died down.

"Yes! Yes! Now for some peace and quiet!"

Then it started up again. She tossed a book out the window.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"

* * *

**So, this probably isn't as long as I'd have liked it to be, but it's finally written, right? If anyone is reading this, I'm sorry if updates are sporadic sometimes. Sometimes I get busy with stuff and other written projects, and sometimes I'm just plain lazy and need to kick myself in the butt to update again. Anyways, hope you enjoy, and I'll try to get the next chapter updated soon! Maybe with some longer chapters too. :) Thanks for any reviews this parody has gotten so far, I really, really appreciate it! **


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter 8! **

* * *

Later on that day, Ben caught Gabriel trying to leave, dramaz happened and Gabriel ran, which caused Ben to follow him. Charlotte and the kids were relieved, Charlotte especially since she finally got her chance to punch him in the nose when he tried kissing her. It also saved the children a vomiting.

"Goodbye, shithead!" Charlotte yelled as he rode away. "Come on, kids, let's go watch the tv that doesn't exist yet."

* * *

Gabriel stared out the window. _What a lovely sight, _he mused as heads and limbs were hacked off. One man was disemboweled, another had his head blown off by a cannon ball. Gabriel seemed to think this was all in good fun. He clapped his hands and giggled. His expression made a swift change as he heard wood creak.

"You forgot your teddy bear again."

"I don't need no damn teddy bear!" Gabriel cried angrily.

Banjo sighed and tossed the teddy bear onto the floor. Gabriel gasped and fell onto the floor to catch it, scraping a knee in the process. Benjamin shook his head at the now blubbering Gabriel.

"See? You can't even scrape your knee without crying."

"I. AM A GROWN. MAN!" he screamed as he held up a razor. "See? I shave and everything!"

Ben was about to respond but something in the background caused him to freak out and jump yelling, "duck!" A literal duck came hurdling through the window, hitting Gabriel in the back of his head because he did not, in fact, duck.'Cause he's a dumbass.

"WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?!" He looked out the window to see a green coated man standing below.

"I am quite sorry, but I am acting under orders of the author."

"Oh, it's you again. I thought this was a Tavington movie."

"_I am the real deal!_ And, once again, author's orders."

"But why should you listen to the author?" Gabriel asked snarkily. "She's only five foot something and she's not even very scary."

Tarleton grinned and that's when the author decided to pull him out of the scene before this got too inappropiate. But not before the author sent a lightning bolt to smite Gabriel, then revived him. Aheh.

After that Ben and son watched Tavington and his dragoons hack up some people.

* * *

Burwell sat at his desk, acting most stressed over paper work, when in reality he was sobbing over his former mistress's "naughty" letters and had a bottle of whiskey hidden in the desk drawer. The tent flap opened and Burwell jumped up, shoving most of the letters into his shirt. Some fell onto the ground.

"Piss off," he snarled. Ben and Gabe glanced at each other then back at Burwell.

"Yeah, dude, we know what those were," Gabriel said. "I just want to be back with my regiment, and the Big Druggie of the county has a request."

"That is father to you, and yes. Burwell, I am finally joining the fight against those demons and would like the permission to form my own militia. Also, my son must be placed under my command. Additionally, you must all praise me and my noble decision, or the deal's off." He ignored Gabriel's muttering of "seriously?"

Burwell just stared at him blankly and muttered "whatever. But no praises. We're short of that around here."

"What?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear. The British have placed taxes on everything now, and that Tavington dude passed out a decree that all praises must be directed toward him, or we pay seven shillings."

"Well you can pay the seven shillings! I need my praises!"

"Son, nobody's got the time or money for that! Now get out, before I shove my foot up your ass."

* * *

Later on, somewhere far away in a smelly swamp, Banjo stood on a stump-geddit, 'cause he's stumpy-

"Oh that's rich coming from you."

Need I smite you?

"No, Miss."

Then let me tell the story. That includes no interrupting my horrible jokes or puns. Anyway, he stood on a stump, gazing proudly at the buffoons he had managed to gather for his militia.

"I done good. I done real good."

"I'd say you've done horrible, but of course, I don't think I did any better," Gabriel told him, looking sadly at the two men and one weird looking monster thing he had found. Ben's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Holy shit, it's the swamp monster! It lives! It LIVES!"

Everyone ran around, resembling chickens. The swamp monster thought they were playing a game of tag and tried to play with them, only to have it's feelings hurt by the men throwing rocks at it. It ran out of camp, where it was picked up by the author.

"Any men lost?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Good. Now, let us plot against the British!"

* * *

***In British Headquarters***

"Tavington, I am telling you, you must stop bringing donuts with you wherever you go! For some reason it attracts mosquitos around here." Cornwallis huffed in annoyance as he swatted some away from his face.

"But sir!" Tavington protested. "They make me happy, and besides, they are one of the only things that will entice the crackers out of their hiding place!"

"Well you must find a different way. I am quite tired of these damn creatures."

Tavington was miserable. The mosquitos would pay for this. Oh, they would pay!

* * *

**Okay, so this might not be as long as I'd hoped- but is it okay? Oh, and I'd also like to note that donuts are awesome.**

**Tarleton: That creature drooled on mine.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and thanks for any reviews! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9. **

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.**

"Banjo sat staring into a fire."

"Gabriel, I don't know how many times I've told you already, _stop narrating everything I do. _And stop calling me Banjo! You know how I've felt about that since the Incident!"

Aw, but there's nothing else to do!" Gabriel whined. He did a lot of that. "It's so boring!Wait- what _was _the Incident?"

"Gabriel! What did I say about that?!"

"But-"

"What did I say?!"

"To not ask you. Was it really that horrible?"

"GABRIEL!"

"I just want to know! You never tell me anything!"

"Because you don't need to know anything!"

"Thomas always wanted to know what would have happened," Gabriel said, glancing at the small bag of toy cows that had been Thomas's. Benjamin was melting them for slingshot balls. _Balls, _Gabriel thought with a snicker. Then he returned to manipulating his father to tell him about the Incident. "-can you at least tell _me _about it? Thomas would have wanted it!"

"Thomas can get over it," Benjamin muttered, but nevertheless, he told his story. Long ago, he had been known as the best banjo-er in the county. Some said the whole colony, but of course Ben would believe that.(Ben: Hey!) Anyways, his friends used to throw parties, even wilder than the ones they threw now, if that could be believed. And Ben would always bring his Banjo, and he was known as "Banjo" Martin. But one night, everything changed. Someone had challenged his Banjo-playing skills. What started off as a stupid drunk argument escalated into a huge drunken brawl, including everyone that had come to the party. There was a hole in the floor from someone who had fallen through a few nights before, and his Banjo got stuck. As he was fighting the dude who had challenged him, he got closer and closer until he fell backwards and-

"It was shoved right up my ass," he sobbed. Yes, indeedy, people. That was the Incident. The horrific incident. "For the longest time, no one would call me plain 'Banjo' Martin anymore, no it was 'Ass-Banjo' Martin! Like fucking teenagers, they were!" He sobbed some more. "And now the enemy must feel my pain!" Gabrie edged away, frightened by the image that would be ingrained into his mind, and the psychotic outburst. It was no use telling him the enemy had nothing to do with the Incident.

* * *

~at British camp~

Tavington was pissed. Of course he was pissed. He's always pissed, but there was a good reason this time. No more donuts. (It's a very good reason!) Because of those mosquitos, those creatures that belong in Hades. However since he couldn't just massacre them all in one swoop, he would take it out on others.

"YOU!" he roared at James Wilkins as he stormed into a tent. He grabbed Wilkins neck and throttled him. "WHERE. IS. THE FUCKING. GHOST?!"

"The Ghost?" Wilkins rasped out. Tavington let go of him.

"Oh yeah. I forgot he has a different nickname this time." He slapped Wilkins. "Wake the fuck up, Jim! He has a different nickname, he's the Banjo, not the Ghost!"

"YOU CRAZY I DIDN'T EVEN- Aww, screw it. What do you need to know, Sir?"

"Everything. Who the Banjo is. Why is he called the Banjo? And does he have family?"

"You mean after all this time you still haven't figured out who he is?" After a threatening look, Wilkins added, "It's old Benjamin Martin, Sir, from that one farm. As for why he's called the Banjo, he used to be the town Banjo player, but gave up the nickname after a horrific incident." Shuddering, he continued, "But now folks have been calling him that again because of his mode of attack."

Here they all shuddered. They had come upon one of their regiments and... well... let's say there were banjos where banjos shouldn't have been.

"I see... and about his family?"

"Stayin' with their aunt, Sir. Why?"

"Because, Wilkins. Because. Say, do they have donuts?"

"They should."

"Perfect."

* * *

**Tavington's after their donuts, the psychopath. Well, hope this is enjoyed, and as always, thanks for reading! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10. I am very sorry that it took so long to update! I'd intended to earlier this week, but it seems yours truly can get side-tracked very easily. (Ban: *holds candy wrapper next to face* Me: oooo, shiny!) But seriously! I should be updating more now (since there's not much more left of this parody), and I hope to get another fic up sometime soon too! **

**As always, my most heartfelt thanks to reviewers! They warm my heart! **

**Disclaimer: If I claimed to own The Patriot, I'd be A NASTY LIAR THAT'S WHAT I'D BE. **

* * *

_Night, Aunt Charlotte's house_

"Aunt." A finger poked her. No response. "Aunt!" Samuel continued poking her and when that didn't work, he pulled a frying pan out of his pocket and hit her over the head with it.

"AGh! Samuel- what the hell?!"

Samuel whispered something, but he was so quiet, Charlotte could barely hear him.

"What?"

Again, Charlotte could not catch what he was saying. She grabbed his arm and shook him. "Speak up, boy!"

"TAVINGTON IS HERE."

She rushed to the window. Tavington was indeed here... and distributing shovels to his men. "...and I want you to look _everywhere... _the donuts must be found..."

"Shit, we've got to go!" Charlotte ran out of the room and woke the children, forgetting that she still had hold of his arm so he was dragged along with her. "All right y'all, let's go."

"WAIT!" one of the boys (I do believe it was Nathan) cried out. "I need to prove my bravery (and stupidity) by staying here to try to kill him then chicken out and almost get caught. Catch up with y'all in ten minutes!"

"NATHAN WE CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG!"

But Nathan did not listen. Of course he didn't. He ducked away from Charlotte and ran into the kitchen.

"He's going to hide... in the kitchen? There's not a lot of places he can hide in there."

Charlotte sighed. "He's a Martin boy, my dear." Someone broke a window. "Come on, let's go!"

"But Nathan!"

"He'll just have to catch up with us!"

* * *

The dragoons finally got the door open, and Tavington ran in.

"Donuts?!"

He ran through the entire house, screaming "DONUTSSSS" all the while, and barely giving Nathan enough time to duck under the table before he burst through the kitchen door. He listened to Tavington rummage through everything as he trembled in his hiding spot, clutching the _one remaining bag of donuts._

"I know you're in here somewhere..." The kitchen door slammed open. "SERIOUSLY, MAN?!"

"Sorry, Sir," a voice said.

"WELL WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

"There were no donuts. Sir."

"Dammit." Tavington flounced (yes, flounced) out of the room.

"Torch the house and barns!"

"Oh, shit!" Nathan scrambled out from under the table, leaving the donuts there by accident.

* * *

Charlotte and the stooges made it to what I shall now call Hide-y Hole Island(though I know the real name) without further incident. Nathan indeed caught up to them, a day later, with bruises and torn clothes after a spat with some feral chickens. Many more bruises were added after the family found out he forgot the donuts.

Banjo joined them, causing Charlotte to take to carrying a stick around with her. In it she carved the words, "Ass Whoopin' Stick." Gabriel married Anne (which I, as the narrator, advised her against seeing his extreme stupidity, but it seems she had grown slightly fond of said stupidity). Banjo deemed this as a perfect time to make his moves and try to kiss Charlotte, but was discouraged after she whacked him upside the head with the Ass Whoopin' Stick.

After some other incredibly boring scenes, Banjo and Gabriel rode back to war, and the rest went about doing whatever it is they do.

NEXT CHAPTER: BURWELL INTRODUCES A NEW OFFICER, AND NOBODY WILL SHARE THEIR DONUTS WITH TAVINGTON.


	11. Chapter 11

**Before I continue: I am very, very sorry to anyone reading this for not updating in forever! I had intended on updating this sooner, but sometimes real life has other ideas, as everyone well knows. **

**My most heartfelt thanks for the reviews thus far! They make me smile. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, The Patriot, or it's characters. I'm just tryin' to be funny.**

* * *

_Ah, it's good to be back, _Banjo thought as he walked through the camp, taking in the sight of dirty tents, people in torn up clothes, and amputated limbs. The air was filled with the stench of blood, something he loved. He whistled happily and skipped through the camp, earning him some odd looks. Even the dense Gabriel could see he was losing it. Onward he pranced, all the way to Burwell's tent, stopping abruptly when he saw another person talking to Burwell, and they were friends, by the look of it. Jealousy flared. Burwell was _his_ friend, no one else's!

"You!" he screamed as he lunged forward, trying to strangle him.

"What the hell?! I don't even know you!" The French dude jumped back, causing Banjo to stumble forward. Insults soon turned to fisticuffs.

"Dammit!" Burwell wailed. "Can't anyone at least _act _civilized?!"

*one hour later*

It was difficult, but Burwell had finally got them to stop fighting and sat in chairs (it had taken Gabriel, another soldier, and three very large sticks).

"Now, gentlemen, shall we behave now?" he said firmly, glaring at them. They both nodded. "Gabriel, keep the stick. Now, if I may- Banjo-"

"Benjamin!" Martin interrupted him.

Burwell went on as if he never spoke, "-this is Major Jean Villeneuve. Major, this Colonel Banjo-"

Benjamin!" Martin screeched. "Y'all know I hate that name!"

"Why should we care what _you_ want?" Villeneuve asked in a nasty tone.

"Asshole!" Martin punched him in the face, and Villeneuve retaliated by punching him in the nose.

"Unbelievable!" Burwell yelled as, once more, the two men tried to kick the shit out of each other.

* * *

In some other part of South Carolina, Tavington stood some ways away from a house, in a field of flowers(one could hear screaming in the house, but for the sake of a peaceful moment, Tavington elected to ignore them). Every now and then, he thought he could see donuts dancing in between stalks of grass. He desperately needed some donuts.

A throat cleared behind him. Tavington sighed irritably. "What the heck is it now, Bordon? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I wouldn't call hallucinating donuts being busy, but whatever."

"What was that?"

"Er, nothing! I said nothing!"

"That's what I thought. So, what about the dude?"

"The... dude?" Bordon asked, confused.

"Yes! The dude! In the house! That you were questioning!"

"I don't recall questioning the house..."

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!" Tavington sighed. "Did he, or did he not, give up the donuts?"

"Well, see, that's what I came out here to tell you about-"

"Obviously!"

"He wouldn't give up the donuts..." Seeing Tavington's expression grow ten times darker, he rushed on, "then we tried taking them away by force and a little... accident... may have happened..."

Tavington rushed into the house, where he was greeted by the sight of his men carrying out a dead person, and a basket of donuts that were covered in blood.

"We accidentally got blood on the donuts. Sorry, Sir."

Enraged, Tavington kicked a chair. "Why is it so difficult for you lot to perform even the most simplest of tasks?! Literally all you had to do was grab it from him!" He felt like crying. All he wanted was some donuts! "Bring me the other dude!"

Another dude was dragged in. "This is the one that stole them. Maybe he knows where to find more," Bordon suggested.

"I think you're right, Bordon." Grabbing the man's shirt, he shook him and yelled, "Where are the donuts, fuckface?!"

"Well I was gonna tell you, but now I don't think I will, not with that attitude!"

"Who are you, my mother?! Tellmenow!"

"How much are ya willin' to pay me?"

"You'll be rewarded with your life, you scum!"

The man shrugged. "Then I guess I can't tell ."

Tavington narrowed his eyes. "Then I guess we'll have to use a different tactic. Bordon, bring out the karaoke machine."

After about half an hour of Tavington screeching "Where are the donuts! Where are the donuts! Where are the donuts! Just give me the donuts!" into a microphone, he finally broke down and admitted that the Martins had them.

"I dunno, Sir, I just see this boy running down the lane holding somethin', and who is it but one of the Martin boys, holding a bag of donuts and getting chased by some chickens!" He sobbed. "Just please, stop that awful ruckus!"

"_You're_ a ruckus." Tavington excitedly clapped his hands together. "You know what this means, boys?"

"We're going Martin-hunting?"

"Precisely!"

* * *

"I can't believe this!"

"Well, you better believe it, because it's happening!"

Banjo's eyes teared up. "Harry... I thought I was your friend..."

"Cut the shit, Martin. Villeneuve is in charge of training the soldiers, and that's final."

Banjo stalked out of the tent. He was pissed. He was very pissed, and he was going to take it out on someone else. As he passed Villeneuve, he threatened that if he ever tried to give him orders he'd "rip his spine out of his ass." They got into another fistfight.

For the next month, Villeneuve trained the men (using strategies such as food fights and playing ding dong ditch with the British) and they became Awesome and raided the British and stuff. Tavington and The Dragoons continued their search for the Martins and the last donuts in the county, but sadly, none were to be found. Cornwallis eventually called him back to HQ, telling him to forget about the damn donuts, which made Tavington cry though he'd never admit it to anyone. The militia continued to be a nuisance, causing Cornwallis's frustration to grow, and finally they did something that was utterly and completely unforgivable.

* * *

**Next: the militia deceive the British, and commit an unforgivable sin.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11! As always, thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them. :)**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.**

* * *

At British Headquarters

"Someone to see you, Sir."

Cornwallis rolled his eyes. "Tell them to go away. I'm busy." He pulled a waxing strip off his leg. "OW!"

The orderly outside his door winced and felt utterly grossed out, but continued, "Sir, he won't leave."

"Dammit- tell him I'll see him momentarily!"

* * *

"He'll see you momentarily, sir."

"Of course," Banjo nodded, and went back to admiring a chair that stood in the corner of the room. How did they do it? He couldn't even make a chair leg, much less an entire chair!

The door flew open and he stood up, but Cornwallis had already seen him. Giving him a 'dude, wtf' look, he asked why the hell he was here.

"You have some of my men."

"What?"

"You of my men."

"I don't recall-"

"Listen, a few nights ago one of your asshole colonels took some of my men prisoner. I'd like them back."

"General O'Hara!" Cornwallis called, thoroughly tired of dealing with this imbecile and wanting to return to his secret spa.

"Yes, m'Lord?"

"Wait- what do we get in return?"

"You get your dogs back," Banjo replied, then whistled. Two gigantic dogs ran in.

Cornwallis's eyes lit up. He looked close to tears. "You can have your men back! O'Hara, release them!"

* * *

It just so happened that Tavington and his dragoons were returning at that moment, and as he rode into the fort, he beheld a terrible sight.

"General O'Hara, what is this?! What is this man doing here?!" He marched over to O'Hara and Banjo, who were releasing the prisoners.

"He comes under a white flag and will be treated properly."

"Oh, I'll 'treat' him alright! Get over here, asshole!" He pulled out his sabre. Banjo's eyes widened and he jumped away.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?! Oh, and where are the donuts?!" He almost sliced Martin's arm off. General O'Hara yelled at them.

"What donuts? Ow! You gave me a cut!"

"Oh, go cry to your mama, why don't you?"

Banjo was about to make a snarky reply back, but was interrupted.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON OUT HERE!" Cornwallis roared as he stormed outside, wearing nothing but a robe and whitey tighties, which everyone could see.

"OH GOOD GOD!" Tavington yelled, dropping his sabre, and covering his eyes. He was really tempted to stab them out.

Banjo screamed and ran, taking his men and Cornwallis's dogs with him. O'Hara and the rest could only stare in horror.

"Hm? Anyone care to tell me what happened?"

"M-M'lord, Tavington and the other man got into a fight."

"Tavington, what the hell?!"

"Uh... M'Lord, what happened to your dogs?!"

"Nice try, Tavington, but-wait a minute..."

And everyone else scrambled away to find shelter from the inevitable rage fit that would soon follow.

* * *

Martin, Villeneuve, and the rest of the doofuses sat around a fire, snickering.

"... and then... I stole the dogs back!" Banjo told them. More laughter. "But wait, I'm not stopping at the dogs." The rest got silent. "Cornwallis is hosting a ball soon. You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

With grins on their faces, they perfected their evil plan.

* * *

Two days later

As the British and Loyalist people were having the time of their lives at a mansion, a lone boat made it's way towards the supply ship that floated in the river nearby.

"Man, I hope this is gonna work."

"It will," Banjo replied.

"This uniform smells like ass."

"Deal with it."

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"Man, shut your face."

"Alright, alright!" Banjo shushed them. "We're getting close. You got the explosives ready?"

One of the men lifted a blanket, revealing a pile of TNT. "Yup."

"Good. We're close enough."

Carefully, they picked up the explosives, lighting them on fire and quickly tossing them onto the ship. Unfortunately, Gabriel accidentally dropped one in the boat.

"Shit! Jump! Jump!" Banjo hissed. "Gabriel, you dumbass!"

* * *

The ball was perfect. Pretty lights, good food, and people were properly sympathetic when hearing about his dogs. It was perfect. And then-

BOOM! The supply ship exploded. Cornwallis could see bits of people, wood, and clothing fly everywhere. Nothing was more horrifying.

"Fireworks!" The idiot beside him exclaimed loudly and clapped.

"Holy shit," Tavington muttered and downed a whole wine bottle.

"UN-BE-LIEVABLE!"

Cornwallis stomped around a room, throwing things. Tavington and his aides stood by.

"Tavington, I blame this on you!"

"Me?! Why?!"

"Because you should have caught the Banjo by now!"

"No offense, but you know it's preposterous to blame this on me!"

"You're right, however it's part of the script, so I have to say it."

"Oh. Okay."

"Anyways," Cornwallis resumed. "I want you to catch the Banjo, no matter what means!"

"Alright, but you gotta promise me some land. Ohio, maybe?"

"Ewww, why Ohio?"

"I don't know. It's in the script."

"Right, right, the script. Fine, you shall have Ohio. You're dismissed."

"Nice." Tavington left and stayed up all night in his room, cackling evilly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you so, so much Rosemary Tarleton, Colonel Rose, and Guest for your kind reviews! They made my day! :)**

**Chapter 12!**

**Disclaimer: As I've said plenty of times before, I do not own The Patriot, nor do I own it's characters. **

* * *

** Pembroke**

Tavington watched from the bushes as the villagers all gathered in front of the church, an evil smile on his face. Today would be a good day. He'd find out where that blasted Banjo was, put a stop to those a-holes who were helping him, and finally quench his craving for donuts. _It's brilliant! _he thought. _Killing two bir-er, three birds-Forget it._

"Men, it's time."

They galloped out, surrounding the villagers. Everything was chaos. In the meantime, a few dragoons had pulled a cannon up and pointed it at them.

"Alright, enough!" Tavington ordered, but nobody listened. "I said ENOUGH!" He fired a pistol into the air. The villagers stopped their antics and stared at him. "Now, see this?" He pointed at the cannon. "_Anyone _who tries to escape, disobey, or otherwise question my authority shall immediately be put to death. Understood?"

"But why-" was all one man was able to say before he was blown off his feet. Body parts and blood flew everywhere.

"You killed Billy, you bitch!" A woman yelled and was also killed.

"Would anyone else like to share their fate?" Silence. "Good. Now get in the church."

Everyone obeyed. Tavington rode into the church, nearly trampling a few people.

"Unless you're all truly as stupid as I think you are, then you know why I'm here. I have three questions: where is the Banjo, who is supplying him, and where may I find some donuts? If any of you answers all three, you _might _be forgiven."

At first no one said a thing, but when Tavington began to turn around, a man jumped forward.

"Wait, Sir!" Ignoring hisses of "Shut up!" and "Oh my God, you're _such _an idiot!", he proceeded to tell Tavington everything he knew.

"Hm. I see," Tavington replied. "And the donuts?"

"Bakery shop, down the street."

"I cannot believe you!" the baker screamed.

Tavington thanked him then rode out, ordering his men to shut and lock the doors.

"Hey! You said we'd be forgiven!"

Tavington smirked. "I said you _might." _And then the doors were shut, and the church was set on fire. The dragoons had a very nice breakfast of donuts, ignoring the screams as they rode away from Pembroke.

* * *

Martin and his stooges were very happy as they rode along the path. The past few raids had been very successful (most times all he had to do was pull out a banjo, and they'd give him whatever he wanted) and now they were going to see their families again. Gabriel had stopped every five minutes to pick flowers, making a lovely bouquet for Anne.

They could barely contain their excitement as they entered the village and then...

"Um... does anybody else notice something?"

They um... they moved?" Gabriel asked.

"No, you idiot! It's all burned down!" Billings yelled.

"Soo like... where did everybody go?"

"THEY'RE DEAD MORON!"

"Anne, nooooooo!" Gabriel fell to his knees. Tavington would pay for this.

* * *

It was afternoon. Tavington and co. were lazing about under some trees. After stealing all the donuts the bakery had to offer, they had split up into small groups to better scout the area. Tavington's group found some trees to sit under so they could eat and rest. There was also a creek nearby, which Tavington used as a place to shave. (Looked pretty clean-shaven to me, but the scene was certainly appreciated.)

This peaceful scene was interrupted by the sound of approaching horses. Gabriel had come to avenge Anne and the villagers, taking a few of the other men with him. They had rushed away as fast as they could, pretending they didn't hear Banjo say "No." And now they were gonna make Tavington pay. Or so they thought.

"Get the cannon!" Bordon yelled. A few dragoons rushed to take the cannon out, but were shot. Gabriel dismounted and went after Tavington, but was blocked by Bordon. Poor Bordon. All he was trying to do was protect his commander and next thing he knew, he was dead.

Tavington was enraged. Out of all the people he disliked, Tavington disliked Bordon a little less. Tavington and Gabriel sparred, then Gabriel shot his gun and Tavington fell down. Gabriel, thinking Tavington was dead was gonna... scalp him? Or something. Maybe stab him to bits and pieces like his father did to those other redcoats. Whatever he was going to do, it didn't work out. Tavington had just been playing possum and stabbed Gabriel. Yet another Martin was dead.

After that, Tavington climbed onto his horse (noting with relief that his donuts were still there) and galloped off.

When Martin and the rest of his stooges came upon the scene, he was pissed. Deeply saddened, but pissed.

"See what happens when you disobey your father? Thomas did, look what happened to him. You better keep yourself prepared in whatever afterlife you're in, because just know I _will_ kick your ass when I get there!" he whispered to his son's corpse. And since he already swore vengeance on Tavington, he swore double vengeance this time.


End file.
